


sick (with love)

by wiltin



Category: Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: Coronavirus, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Gay Mike Pence, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Past Vladmir Putin/Donald Trump, Sick Character, Sickfic, Warning: Donald Trump, i think i can get arrested for writing this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:41:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26895376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wiltin/pseuds/wiltin
Summary: Pence felt that deep loneliness, too. He could never love his wife in the same way as what he felt for the president. This talk would change nothing about how the president felt for him. He would probably forget it anyways, due to all the meds, or pass it off as a dream.Mike Pence visits Trump in his bedroom after his early discharge from the hospital.
Relationships: Mike Pence/Donald Trump
Comments: 7
Kudos: 16





	sick (with love)

**Author's Note:**

> hiii i watched the 2020 vice presidential debate. anyways trump has a thing for men with white hair. pence/fly is canon king.

The room was dark, and a gloom lay over everything. There was a single lump in the bed, breathing heavily through sleep. Besides the sounds of breathing and the clock on the wall, all was silent. Through the quiet, the small sound of a creaking door was heard. Light was cast onto the bed for just a moment, and for just a moment the figure stirred. The door quickly closed behind a man in his early sixties.

“Are you asleep?” Mike whispered. After there was no response, he approached the bed slowly and as quietly as he could manage. He peered curiously down at his running mate. He looked strangely peaceful in his sleep, his face finally relaxed. The past while had been stressful, and it showed.

Pence slowly reached his hand to touch Donald’s cheek. It felt warm against his cool hand, and he left it there for a moment, relishing the contact. The taller man stirred in his bed.

“...Who’s there? ...Vlad?” The president questioned, eyes not yet open. Mike quickly withdrew his hand.

“No, Donald.” He felt a pang of jealousy for the Russian man who held Trump’s affections. “It’s Mike.”

“Mike… my head is swimming. Please stay with me for awhile.” He let out a small cough, and Mike flinched.

“...I will.” The vice president knelt down beside the bed. He let his hand rest on the bed, and Trump quickly grabbed it. Mike’s face heated up.

“I feel like I’m flying. Maybe I’m still dreaming…”

“Is it a good dream?” Pence smiled softly.

“I think so… you’re here, aren’t you?” He cleared his throat softly. Mike was left speechless. He grasped for something to say.

“How do you feel?”

“I feel weird. It’s like everything is in place. You’re here… and it’s quiet for once.”

“You feel happy, then?”

“Yes. It’s a little hard to breathe… I don’t remember why…”

“You’re sick.”

“Oh. Are you here to take care of me?”

Pence hesitated. “If that’s what you want me to do.”

“Yes… I want you by my side. It’s been so lonely here alone.”

“I can imagine that.” Pence felt that deep loneliness, too. He could never love his wife in the same way as what he felt for the president. This talk would change nothing about how the president felt for him. He would probably forget it anyways, due to all the meds, or pass it off as a dream.

“Can you tell me a story?” The president’s eyes were wide and innocent. It was almost… cute? Pence shook off the thought.

“Yes, sir.”

“Don’t call me sir. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Yes… Donald. What kind of story?”

The president stopped to think for a moment. “Something romantic. With a happy ending.”

“...Alright. Once upon a time--”

“Can I be in your story?” The president looked up at Mike pleadingly. The shorter man only nodded.

“There was a great president. The best there ever was.”

“That’s me!” Trump laughed.

“Yep. And his vice president lived to serve him. He would drop everything to help him.”

“You really care about me that much?” The president smiled, almost teasing.

“I do.”

“Then… will you sleep with me?”

“W-what? That’s… that’s hardly appropriate!”

“No, just… lay next to me. I feel so alone since Vlad and I broke up.”

“You broke up? When?”

“A few weeks ago. We’re on good terms, but… I want someone else.” Pence flushed at this. Could the president be referring to…?

“Okay. I’m going to get sick, too.”

“Then it can be my turn to take care of you!” Trump grinned.

“Yes, it can.” Pence laughed. He walked to the other side of the bed as Trump shifted to face his new position. He slipped under the covers. It was hot under the covers, the president’s fever heating it to sweating. He lay on his side to face the president. Through the blankets, he could see the president smiling.

“Mikey… will you kiss me?”

“W-what?”

“You said you would drop everything to help me… will you kiss me, please? It would help.”

“Hmm…” Pence reasoned that it was unlikely the president would remember this. He leaned forwards to gently kiss the president’s forehead. The blonde made a small, contented sound. It wasn’t long before he drifted off to sleep once more.

“Your face is rather red, sir. Are you sick?” One of the guards outside Trump’s door asked.

“I bet he’s lovesick,” the other guard outside Trump’s door teased, before making smoochy sounds.

“Oh, shut up…” Pence muttered, before returning to his duties.


End file.
